Chapter 4 – Serpent
Harry winced as he was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and pushed into the adjoining hallway by two grim-faced soldiers, the points of their spears held uncomfortably close to his throat. The long hallway they travelled through passed several rather well-decorated rooms with high windows along the top of them that let in the rays of the setting sun. The Pharaoh himself had vanished down some side-passage, and Harry briefly wondered if he'd even be at this test, whatever it was.
Harry was led into a rather lengthy chamber that was splendidly decorated compared to most of the rest of the palace, and that was saying something. There was a rather familiar shrine at the end of it, featuring the falcon-headed image of Heru. Ominous wall-carvings of the Pharaoh holding a flail and wearing a crown flanked it; he was wearing a tall red-and-white crown that was familiar to him, though he wasn't sure what it meant.
"Wait here," one of the soldiers said sharply, roughly shoving Harry onto a long stone bench that ran along the wall. The soldier tapped his weapon on the ground and turned. "If you flee, you shall die by the spear."
"Yes, yes, I got it," Harry said tiredly, ignoring the men that escorted him in favour of studying the script on the walls. He knew rather little about hieroglyphics and the few times that he'd tried to learn from Anedjib he'd failed miserably, but he did think it looked rather interesting. It was a language with pictures instead of letters. He had no idea what most of the symbols meant, but traced the small falcon that he did recognize as Heru.
The Pharaoh's palace was impressive, but Harry had to admit that he was slightly underwhelmed compared to his expectations. After the ruins he'd visited in the future and after seeing even the smallest pyramid, this was cheap stuff in comparison. It was only two floors tall with most of the glamour derived from painting everything in bright colours and putting golden jewellery around every corner. It had none of the grandeur or wonder that he associated with this civilization. Harry wondered what exactly this was all about; he'd gathered that it had to do with his activities in Per-Bastet, but those were not harmful, and he certainly hadn't gone around trying to offend the Pharaoh.
The two soldiers that brought him in remained by his side constantly, and they didn't look much more enthusiastic about the situation than he himself. Though Harry was a bit tense for the first ten minutes, after half an hour he was just looking on with a bored half-lidded gaze. Shadows crawled ever so slowly across the gold-encrusted wall as the sun slowly set, occasionally catching a beautiful little emerald just right so that it twinkled at him merrily.
It didn't take very long before one of the guards got impatient. "Who are you?" he whispered, eyes narrowing. "I hear that you are a craftsman of some renown that makes high-quality decorations, yet you live in the commons?"
Harry looked at him with a bored expression. "What I choose to do is my business," he said dryly. "I don't need a big house or lots of gold. That's not what I'm after, at all."
"Yet you ingratiated yourself with the priests of Per-Bastet, and made blasphemous claims about yourself. That hardly speaks of humility." The soldier shook his head. "I do not understand. If you had lied to the Pharaoh about these charges, you might have escaped the moment you were let loose outside the palace."
Harry scoffed. "Lying to the Pharaoh? I'm not an idiot. Besides, the rumours about me were not started by me and I've never claimed them to be the complete truth. But, and this is important, it's not all false either. I can hardly go around pretending I'm not the one that the Pharaoh seeks."
The soldier scoffed. "You're called a miracle-worker? The only thing that I see which is miraculous is that your head is still on your shoulders after carrying Heru's name as your own."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "My name was given to me, it was hardly my choice. Did you have a choice in yours?"
Harry was about to make another remark when he heard footsteps from the adjoining hall. The Pharaoh came in first flanked by two more soldiers with tall spears and stormy expressions. Immediately behind them walked four servants who were carrying a huge metal box; they held it up with two long horizontal beams on each side. They lowered it on the far end of the room, right next to the shrine. The hissing sounds that came from within didn't make it difficult to guess what it was for, and Harry gulped. What kind of snake would be so big that it required that much room? He dearly hoped it wasn't another Basilisk, since he was short a magical sword.
The Pharaoh strode over to Harry with quick steps wearing an even more elaborate collar than before with gemstones all over it. "Heru of Per-Bastet," he said after a moment, staring down on him. Then he turned to the two soldiers. "What are your observations?"
"He did not attempt to flee," the first simply said. Harry rolled his eyes, half inclined to point out that he had no spear wounds, so that was obvious. The second soldier glanced at Harry, and then turned to the Pharaoh. "He seems honest."
"Really?" the Pharaoh smiled thinly, turning his sharp eyes on Harry once more, before he moved on to the large box. Harry could still hear soft hissing coming from it, and for once he'd have liked his Parseltongue ability back, so he could ward them off. The Pharaoh followed his gaze. "Yes, this is the test that I mentioned. The Challenge of the Serpent is one that all Pharaoh since the great Narmer have passed. It is used to judge those of the royal bloodline worthy of leading Egypt, and those who believe they have greater claim to the position are weeded out. It is a test of one's true allegiance to Heru, the progenitor of all the Pharaohs."
Harry frowned, staring at the casket. The snake had to be in there, then. It had to be pissed if it was kept in a small box like that.
"The serpents of the south are strange creatures in many ways. It is not known who first created them, which god can be credited with their existence. All consider them royal creatures, a symbol of the unending reign of the Pharaoh. They shed their skin, renewing themselves across their long lives in a multitude of ways, ever changing and yet staying the same in essence. The Pharaohs pass on their title to their children, thus keeping the line of Heru intact. He was and is the first Pharaoh, the divine."
Harry frowned, staring at the box. Really, he had no idea what to make of it. Heru was a local deity, he knew that, but to actually claim a literal blood connection to him? And where did the snake come into the picture?
"The serpent within this casket will not attack those of like nature to itself. It will not kill a Pharaoh, nor will it harm those loyal to Heru the Great. This will be your test, one that many have failed at in the past. Their bones are scattered in the valleys, now. You shall sit with the snake in its home for eight hours, and let it judge your worth. Its poison is lethal in an instant. If you fail you shall not know it in life, and will find yourself in the underworld by morning. Your bones will join those of your predecessors. If you survive…" the Pharaoh shook his head. "We shall see."
Harry stared at the casket nervously, then. No wonder it was so large. He was supposed to get inside that thing. Inside a box barely large enough to hold two people, inhabited by what sounded like an awfully huge snake. Thank heavens he had his wand on him.
"You will not have an advantage over the creature," The Pharaoh said suddenly, and Harry's gaze shot up to meet his in consternation. Evidently he'd noticed Harry's movement, and the man's sardonic smile was clear enough. "You will go in the same way that I did, Heru of Per-Bastet. You will enter like a new-born. The serpent has only those faculties the gods have granted it. The same shall be true for you."
Harry gulped audibly. "I'm supposed to be naked?"
The Pharaoh chuckled softly. "Yes, foreigner. You wear much for a warm climate, so I assume you are from a nation in which the climate is less pressing.I have heard of the distant folks that shun nakedness entirely, though I have never understood it. Are you from between the two rivers, perhaps? Further east than that, even?" He smiled as he shook his head. "This is not a choice. You will have to swallow your pride."
After several years in Egypt, Harry really didn't have much shame left; everyone walked around half-clothed, and the only reason he preferred a tunic was simply because it reminded him of home, reminded him that he wasn't really a native here. The problem wasn't prudishness, but losing his wand. He couldn't grab it now, since the Pharaoh would see it. Even if they didn't have a clue what it was, he certainly wouldn't be allowed to take it with him. How was he going to pull off surviving a deadly snake without spells? Could he even survive snake venom? He knew wizards were more resistant to that kind of thing, but by how much? He'd been able to take the Basilisk's venom for a little while, far longer than any Muggle would have, but he would have died anyway, if not for Fawkes. He was hardly immune.
A servant pulled open the side of the casket, and the hissing from inside instantly got much, much louder. It was dark inside, of course, the flickering fires in the hall barely enough to illuminate the edges. Quite suddenly the hissing noise vanished entirely from the casket, and Harry didn't know what that meant. He couldn't go in there: He had nothing to protect himself with. He wasn't a Pharaoh, so this kind of 'test' was certainly not meant for him. He thought of obliviating the lot of them, but even if he had known that spell, he'd risk pulling a Lockhart on these people, and he didn't wish that on anyone else. What could he do that didn't involve hurting the people around him?
"Unclothe him," the Pharaoh ordered unemotionally, and before Harry could process that his tunic was on the ground, and someone had cut his makeshift belt, and he was pushed forward harshly.
"In."
Harry was shoved into the box forcefully, and it was immediately slammed shut behind him, leaving him in near-total darkness. There was a slight sliver of light that crept in from the air holes in the top, but that was it. He froze as he remembered he wasn'talone in here, that there was something much much worse. He very slowly turned his head towards the other side of the box. He couldn't apparate without his wand, or much of anything else. If the worst happened, though, he still had his strength; he could probably knock the side out of the casket. Of course, he'd probably get stabbed to death by the guards that were probably just outside, and that wasn't any better than a snake's bite.
For five long, drawn-out minutes, Harry stared into the darkness as his eyes slowly got used to the lack of light. He kept still, hoping that the snake would ignore him, that it would leave him be. He worriedly took stock of his options. He was rubbish at wandless magic, and he suspected that accidental magic was rare enough at his age that it certainly wouldn't be in time to stop him from getting bitten. He didn't dare hope he could physically fight off a snake, not without getting bitten. If the Pharaoh was right about the strength of the creature's venom, it'd probably be lethal to him as it would be to any Muggle. Staring into the darker recesses of the casket, Harry realized that he saw the long curves of the creature's sinuous body. It was huge.
It was striped, with alternating black and a light colour, though the poor light did nothing to help him determine what it was. It was curled up tightly, its head resting on its own body. Harry could only just see the unblinking eyes that, for now, seemed to be ignoring him. Harry shifted slightly as his back protested against his position and his foot touched a soft, rough surface, oddly warm to the touch. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he realized what he'd touched, and he ever so carefully pulled his foot back. There, right next to his feet was a second snake. No, that wasn't right…
"More than one head," Harry whispered. He glanced back towards the first he'd seen, and it took him only a moment to realize that there was a third head on the far side, in between the twists of the snake's body, and all three of the heads joined in the same location. It was a three-headed snake, its neck separating some distance along the length of its body.
"You're a Runespoor," Harry said in English, astonished. It was a magical breed of snake native to Africa, that was true enough, but it was certainly not from Egypt's deserts. How had the Pharaoh managed to capture one of these, and why wasn't it trying to escape? He tried to remember what he knew about the snake, though it was no more than general knowledge from Hagrid's classes.
Just as Harry had calmed down enough to calm his rapid breathing, the Runespoor moved. Very slowly it slithered closer, keeping its three heads together as it slowly uncurled. It looked very much like a cobra with its heads nearly touching the ceiling of the box; the Critic bore its fangs.
Harry stared at it nervously. "Would you mind not killing me?" he asked, almost snorting at how pathetic he sounded. Runespoors were supposed to be intelligent beings, so they wouldn't just bite and be done with it. That wouldn't make much of a test either, he figured. Harry winced as the two outer heads snapped forward and then backed away again. The serpent's tongues flickering out and in again, tasting the air, its left and right heads bobbing softly in the air while the middle just stared. Harry looked on apprehensively as it came closer, slowly sliding past his feet. It was quick and confident, and knew that Harry couldn't do anything to it, not without getting hurt. Harry had the urge to flee, to get the hell out of the casket, but forced himself to stay still.
Runespoors, unlike normal snakes, had three heads with three different functions; one planned, one dreamed, one criticized. The Planner hissed, and the Critic joined in, showing off its pair of huge fangs. The Dreamer between them just continued staring ahead, seemingly focused on the middle of Harry's chest. Probably it wasn't all here, instead lost in imagination or flights of fancy while the others controlled the body.
After fifteen minutes, Harry realized that the Runespoor wasn't going to attempt to attack him; it was content to warm itself on his skin, it seemed. The Planner stared at him, but did nothing else beyond that. Harry wondered what he was going to do, now. If he wasn't going to break out of here, then he'd just have to succeed at the test, however that was done. What criteria was the snake looking for? He was under no illusion that this was simply a test not to anger the snake. A Runespoor was intelligent; it wouldn't be manipulated like that.
"Where did you come from, Runespoor? Did they take you from your home, or did you come willingly?" Harry asked softly, and he frowned. "What would make you help the Muggles, when they keep you in a box like this?" Harry almost flinched back when the Critic hissed at him irritably. That got through, then. "You can understand me?"
The Planner bobbed its head up and down as if nodding.
That was something, at least. "Are you going to kill me?"
The snake's left head wavered back and forth after he asked the question, glancing to the Dreamer, and then back at him. It seemed it had something to do with choosing whether or not he would survive… what did that mean?
He looked at the Planner, frowning. "You're the one that decides what you're going to do, obviously, so you must've been involved in getting here as well. Are you kept here against your will?"
The Planner quite firmly shook its head, and the Critic hissed dangerously. Not captives, then.
"You came here voluntarily, then? On your own?"
The Planner nodded, though the Critic wavered. The two hissed to each other sharply. They weren't here against their will, but they hadn't come here under their own power, Harry figured. Perhaps the snake had been traded with some foreign nation, and it wasn't even used to the outside world. Harry thought about the snake he'd once set free from the zoo; that one had been born in captivity. Perhaps it was like that?
"Do you know what the Pharaoh wants with me? What kind of test is this?" He shook his head tiredly, trying to squash his nerves. That wasn't a question a snake could answer, not without a proper language. "Do I have to do or say something to get out of here alive?"
The Planner glanced at the Critic, who in turn hissed sharply at the Dreamer. For a moment nothing happened, and then the middle head twitched and moved.
The Dreamer hissed slowly, almost melodically, and Harry suspected that it was singing, or what went for singing among snakes. The Dreamer's head weaved and bobbed in between the two others, its eyes focused on Harry with an intensity that had been altogether missing before. Finally it stopped its little dance, its fangs gleaming, though it didn't move.
The Dreamer, the head that was supposed to see things that never were, sang to him. Danced, even. What did that mean? Harry felt a chill run down his back at the six-eyed stare that he was faced with. Quite suddenly the Runespoor moved again, curling up besides Harry in a circle with the Dreamer's head snatching its own tail in its jaws. The Planner and Critic continued to stare at him with those uncomfortable beady eyes. Harry let out a long and relieved sigh as he saw that the snake had retracted its fangs, though
Harry stared at the snake for a long time, wondering what exactly the test had been. Where had the Runespoor come from? Had someone planted it here? He slumped against the inside of the casket, staring at the thin pinpricks of light above him. They reminded him of the stars, shimmering in the night sky.
He wasn't in the box anymore. In fact, he was lying on something very soft and comfortable. Harry blinked drowsily as he shoved away a blanket that smelled pleasantly of flowers. His eyes snapped open fully and he sat up with a start. He wasn't in the box anymore!
The room he was in was very luxurious with a magnificent bed featuring falcons carved into the wooden posts, the walls decorated with golden shapes and sculpted falcons. He stared around in amazement, realizing he recognized this room. He'd been here before, once, when he was experimenting with his Portkeys. Was this still in the palace? He had dodged a hell of a bullet that time, then.
"You are awake at last," a voice said from the door, and Harry turned smoothly towards them. The servant bowed unusually deeply, his eyes refusing to meet Harry's before he turned and left without another word. Harry didn't quite know what to make of that, and decided to at least dress up, before he got any more unwanted visitors. His head felt heavy, but his headache was the least of his troubles right now. Trying to remember what had happened after he'd had his rudimentary conversation with the Runespoor, he realized that arranged next to his bed was a pile of clothes including his tunic. Next to the pile was a small pile of gemstones, Harry recognized them as the ones he'd stored in the pockets he'd sown on the inside of his clothes. Next to them was his wand, intact.
He quickly clothed himself and realized with mild annoyance that he didn't have a belt anymore to keep his kilt from falling off. He quickly shrank it a little bit, frowning. He'd never really gotten used to the casual way people here dressed, as it felt like his clothes could fall off at any moment. The fact that he'd already been unwillingly naked once in the last day was quite enough. Just as he put on his tunic and slipped his wand into its trusty pocket, the Pharaoh appeared in the doorway, his expression surprisingly neutral. He stared at Harry for a long moment, and Harry looked right back.
"Heru of Tjenu," the Pharaoh said, glancing around the room. "If you have no more business here, I would have you follow me."
A pretty ostentatious way of putting things, Harry thought, but he figured that the leader of Egypt could probably get away with pretty much anything. He quickly fell in step. He'd only passed through two rooms when he realized he was getting strange looks from everyone. At first he attributed it to the fact that he was with the Pharaoh, but their gazes seemed to stray higher - to the top of his head. Harry reached up and blinked. There was something tied in his hair!
"Do not disturb it," the Pharaoh chided as they passed through a long hallway devoid of staring people. "It is ceremonial; you will be able to take it off when we are away from prying eyes."
Harry nodded uncertainly, realizing that he was alone, entirely alone, with the Pharaoh of Egypt. He'd hoped to get into the Pharaoh's good graces when he first arrived in the capital, but nothing like this. Still, he had to just go with the flow. He'd known that things were going to change when that Runespoor had put down its heads, when it hadn't even tried biting him. The snake had known something. Something about what was going on that Harry hadn't even figured out yet, perhaps.
He thought back to his arrival, now more than two years ago. It felt like a much shorter time, perhaps because he'd spent a lot of his time making himself useful: He'd learned the Egyptian language, he'd figured out how the culture worked, mostly, and he'd even gotten quite a bit better at his basic spells just by using them a lot in daily life. He didn't have the luxuries of the modern day, and had to figure out a way around them, which turned out to be rather difficult, if interesting. His limited knowledge of magic was annoying, but he was sure he'd figure out a way to expand beyond his Hogwarts spells.
He missed home still, but it was a bit more distant now. He supposed that all things considered, it was as good a time as any for this to happen. He'd finished his duty. He'd ended Voldemort, and finished the prophecy. He hadn't yet had a family to leave behind, either. He would've married Ginny, he was sure, but they had barely made contact again after the events of his last year. It felt more distant than it really was. There were a few faces he'd love to see again, but he knew that they'd be alright. Ron and Hermione had each other, and most of the rest would go on without him. They'd probably mourn, and he wished he could tell them he was fine. But... they'd move on. Harry shook his head tiredly, thinking about the craziness of all of this.
He knew how time-travel worked. He'd used a time-turner, travelled back to the past and changed things; or so he thought. If this was the same, then everything he remembered would be the same, no matter what he did here. In fact, because of what he did here. He'd always been part of history, and that meant he'd always been destined to end up in the past, walking next to the Pharaoh of Egypt, shaping the future. Would his attempts to recreate the Portkey, crude as they were, be the origin of the spell in the future?
Khnurn and the cat, they'd sent him here for a reason. They'd known what they were doing; likely the cat was an Animagus, or at the very least a Kneazle hybrid, intelligent and cunning. Whatever those two had done after he'd passed out ended with him in the distant past, caught in an era when magic was barely in existence yet. He'd landed in a time when civilization was still a tenuous thing, only just developing many of the techniques and inventions that would dominate the next few thousand years. Khnurn had orchestrated this for a reason; perhaps he'd known about his role in history. Perhaps he had found out about his date with destiny.
'For every joy there is a price to be paid.'
What had he meant with those last words? Perhaps the price was the loss of his friends, losing a future in the Wizarding World. Perhaps the price had been the pain that had brought him here. Ananeith had found him covered in wounds and scars, after all, though they had all faded away. He'd paid in plenty of ways already, what joy would he get in return?
Harry focused on the present, wondering if he'd unwittingly managed to do what he'd originally come to the city for, to impress the Pharaoh. Had Anedjib known about that, really known, or had it simply been his magic that had convinced him? Were there Seers in this time and place? He'd never learned much about the Ancient Egyptians, but the possibility sent a chill down his back. In a way, by relaying what Per-Bastet would someday be to Anedjib, he'd already placed himself in that position.
Harry realized suddenly that he'd been led to a well-protected room that was immediately blocked off by two guards the moment he stepped in. A dark-haired woman wearing a shimmering dress sat in the corner, looking at him curiously. The Pharaoh removed his large golden collar in a single movement and sighed in relief before turning to his wife. "Love, this is Heru of Tjenu, who has passed through the test unharmed," he said, gesturing towards Harry. "Heru, this is my wife Nakhtneith, Queen of Egypt."
Harry's eyes widened as he realized where he was. This had to be the Pharaoh's personal abode, a sprawling set of rooms with a balcony. He bowed awkwardly before he could make a fool of himself for staring again. "It is an honour to meet you," he said quickly.
"I have heard much about you," the Queen said, smiling thinly. She glanced at her husband and shrugged. "You have missed an opportunity to see my husband when he is not fully composed. When that casket was opened and you were not dead..." She smiled. "Ah, it was a sight to behold."
The Pharaoh sent an irritated look her way. "It is true... I had not expected you to live." He sat down next to his wife, ushering Harry to take the chair across from him. Harry gingerly lowered himself onto it, distractedly admiring the ornate wooden table that was inlaid with silver. "The test that you underwent is considered impossible. The serpent searches for certain qualities, and there are precious few who have them, and even among the royal family there have been those who failed. What is more, though, is that the snake formed the symbol of perpetuity, of endlessness. It seems, contrary to my expectations, that you are indeed worthy of carrying Heru's name."
Harry shrugged. "I don't know what the snake was supposed to look for."
"The serpent sees all," the Pharaoh said simply, pursing his lips. "Its eyes can see one's past, present, and future, so Narmer said. He is my ancestor, the first Pharaoh of united Egypt. The test was created by him, to ensure the continued success of this nation. Only those who are seen as righteous in Heru's eye will leave the casket with their breath and blood."
"There were few choices on what to do with you." the Queen added softly. "You could not be Pharaoh of course, but clearly the gods favour your presence."
Harry stopped short. Bloody hell, if she was suggesting what he thought she was… Harry shook his head in amazement. He just went from the slums to the capital to the bloody palace?
"You are not of the bloodline of kings, therefore you do not fall within the normal system of inheritance. Some might have claimed you were an illegitimate descendant of the royal family, but none would claim such with your skin and hair." He shook his head and smiled. "It is clear that you are a foreigner, which made things much easier. It might be more difficult to gain trust or support from the masses, but you will certainly not be the subject of one of those distasteful family scandals." The Pharaoh glanced at his wife and nodded.
"So... what do I do?" Harry swallowed. "Do I stay here?"
The Pharaoh glanced at his wife. "I considered letting you reclaim your old life for you are a respected craftsman, and I would not wish to lose such a boon to this city."
"I talked him out of that idea," the Queen added, smiling. "There must be a purpose for your presence here, and a study of our oldest records helped me in coming up with an alternative I suggested that you become an official advisor to the Pharaoh. It is a position that several temples have long suggested, though I believe they were interested in putting one of their own in that place." She smiled sagely. "The Pharaoh's word, however, will bring them in line. The position does require you to fulfill certain agreements and duties."
"You're giving me a job." Harry said after a moment, perplexed. Then he chuckled, looking at the Pharaoh and shaking his head. "I think you might rethink this idea, you know. I'm not used to working for people much, especially lately..."
"Then you will learn, of course." The Pharaoh frowned. "Your headpiece will have to be fitted - the one you currently have is clearly too small."
"Does it have to be a crown?" Harry muttered in annoyance, plucking at his hair. "It's hard enough getting my hair to behave as it is..."
"There is no established tradition," the Pharaoh said blandly. "I will have a more appropriate symbol of rank made."
Harry pulled the crown out of his hair, rummaging in his pocket for his wand. He stared at the gaudy golden object for a long moment. "Do you need this crown for anything?"
Staring at the headpiece, Harry sighed. Advisor to the bloody Pharaoh. He still couldn't wrap his head around that one. If he was going to go around following what was essentially the King of Egypt, he'd have to come across as at least somewhat formal, and he'd never really spent time around the nobles before. Granted, being a foreigner was a great excuse for not knowing customs, but if he made a fool of himself, he certainly wouldn't keep the Pharaoh's favour. He glanced at the Pharaoh speculatively. Could he pull off an act as the Court Magician? He'd read stories about them, the mysterious wizard that advised the king, but who always kept himself unknowable. Would it work in an actual court?
"It is of no value beyond its materials," the Pharaoh said dismissively, and Harry was brought out of his thoughts. If he was going to do this little act, then he'd have to inform the Pharaoh about what he'd be doing. There was one major part of it that he'd need to get out of the way right now. He pulled out his wand with a twirl.
The Pharaoh narrowed his eyes. "I noticed that piece of wood among your possessions; what is its purpose? A divining rod?"
"It's a little more than that," Harry said with a grin. "Just watch." He tapped the crown with the tip of his wand and it turned soft and rubbery, almost dripping out of his hand entirely. Harry had gotten quite good at moulding and cutting metal using transfiguration, courtesy of his jewellery business; these days, he could practically do it in his sleep. With a few jabs and prods at the metal that were precise and quick, the last of the metal gave way. The entire crown came undone into a glob of metal, with the few gems embedded in it dropping to the table.
The gold deformed and twisted around itself until it took a new shape, circular and somewhat flat, and segmented all throughout. Harry had decided that a collar similar to the Pharaoh's own would work, and it would not stand out quite as much as the rather unsightly crown; he made sure to make it smaller than the real thing, though. The gems he still had in his pockets found their way into the front of the collar, sinking into the gold as if it were a liquid. Finally Harry carved a shape in the front of it with a few quick taps: A snake biting its own tail.
The Pharaoh and his wife were staring openly as Harry put on the collar, resizing it slightly so it draped comfortably across his shoulders. It looked a bit gaudy against his rather old and worn vest, but it did its job well enough. He pulled a hand through his hair, smiling. "What do you think? Will this work?"
"That..." The Pharaoh swallowed thickly. "I had almost forgotten the stories," he said slowly. "When I first heard of you, they called you the miracle-worker of Per-Bastet. Now I understand. You possess the power of the gods themselves!"
Harry shrugged lightly. "I call it magic."
THREE MONTHS LATER – 3047 B.C.E.
"Come on, this can't be that difficult," Harry muttered to himself, tapping a rather ugly pot repeatedly with his wand. There was no blue glow. He hadn't figured out if that was an error on his part or if it was optional, but at least the pot warmed slightly whenever he tried to enchant it.
"Portus!" he tried again, and once more there was nothing, not even the explosive flash of yesterday's experiment nor the gout of flame that had reached to the ceiling and turned a small part of his ceiling into a glassy substance that he still couldn't quite identify.
Experimenting with spells was risky at the best of times, but he didn't have much of a choice. His attempts at using the Portkey spell as he remembered it being used were dead ends; he'd only managed to throw himself around the city, rather than any longer distance (let alone a specific spot.) He'd given up on experimenting with the spell in favour of trying to vary it, hoping that he could try to transport inanimate objects first before he would subject his own body to it once again.
Magical theory had never been his strong suit, and though Professor Flitwick had been quite adamant about the necessity of reading the gigantic tome that he'd suggested, Harry had never actually bothered to do so. The only bits and pieces that he recalled were regarding wand movements and intent-based magic; the latter had more to do with the Patronus than anything else, but it was allegedly much more widely applicable. The nastiest of intent-based spells were of course the Unforgivables, mired as they were in requiring dark thoughts to even pull them off.
The mechanics of Portkeys or Apparition had escaped him then and did the same now; though he could apparate without trouble because he was aware of how to cast the magic, he knew barely anything about why it worked or how it was supposed to function. The same was true for most of his spells, and he was trying to change that. If he could figure out Portkeys, perhaps he could apply what he learned more generally. Was it the wand-movement that did it? Did it have any particular meaning or was it all a big mind-game to convince himself that something was possible? If you taught a child the Avada Kedavra spell but convinced them it was used for levitation, what would it do? Kill, or levitate?
"Portus!" Harry blinked as there was a brief blue flash. "Wait... that worked?"
He hadn't been thinking about a specific place at all. The one time he really shouldn't have gotten anything... and it worked? Quickly he grabbed his cup from the table, putting it in the pot. If all was correct, it would activate in 3, 2, 1...
"I'll be damned," Harry said as the Portkey disappeared entirely. Where to was a question of tracking the cup down; he'd enchanted it with enough spells that he could sense it from a mile away in this mostly Muggle-only neighbourhood, and he wasn't feeling anything. "Okay, either I accidentally disintegrated it, or I finally got it past a mile," he muttered as he quickly fastened his collar and his fancy new vest. Time to go out there and figure out a way to excuse himself from the Pharaoh's side for a few days, it seemed.
"YES!" Harry collapsed to the roof with a grin from ear to ear, dropping the cup and raising his hands to the sky. "Finally! I don't know how, but I did it!"
Three long months of increasingly creative variations on his wand movements, his incantation, his focus, and finally he'd managed to make a Portkey, if by accident. At least it told him one thing: whatever he'd been doing, he'd been trying too hard. This one had almost made itself; he'd only nudged it along, and it'd worked, unlike all of his methodical, precise attempts at figuring out how it worked. Did that say something about his shoddy work, or something about magic itself?
He wondered what Dumbledore might have said of his little feat. Harry Potter, recreating the Portkey spell from a vague memory and a ton of trial and error. Granted, he had a leg up over whoever came up with it in the first place (he tried not to consider the possibility of a paradox) in that he was at least aware that it was doable, but it was still a feat. Instantaneous long-distance transportation, from scratch. More so than Dumbledore's reaction, he could imagine Hermione's. He couldn't decide if she'd be incredibly jealous or incredibly impressed, or both at the same time. At the very least she'd be indignant that she hadn't been involved.
"Heru? Is that you?"
Harry raised himself up from the roof and took a quick look over the edge. In his reverie he'd almost forgotten where he'd finally found his missing cup, and his arrival had apparently not gone entirely unnoticed. Granted, he'd been trying to make a Portkey to Per-Bastet since the very beginning, but he was still surprised when he tracked his golden cup down to this place. He couldn't suppress a smile when he was who it was that called him. "Hey, old man! It's good to see you!"
Anedjib looked up disapprovingly, shaking his head. "Come down from there, would you? That roof has already collapsed once, I certainly do not want a repeat of that disasterr." He looked on in dismay as Harry simply vaulted off the roof, landing with a casual ease.
"You're awfully silent," Harry said after a while as the two just looked at each other. "It's the first time I've been here in months - you won't believe the amount of work I've been swamped with - and yet you've barely said a word." He paused, then nodded. "Oh. Of course. You've had word from the capital, haven't you?"
Anedjib glanced at the collar Harry was wearing. "Indeed, 'Advisor'."
Harry smirked. "I might know a thing or two about the future, but you're not half bad yourself, it seems. Can you believe this? Let me tell you, being an advisor is a hell of a job, despite what it sounds like. I thought I had a lot of stuff to do when I was in the jewellery business, but that's peanuts compared to this! Just last week the Pharaoh had me stick a foreign dignitary to the ceiling for insulting him, and I had to stay there and look menacingly at him for the next hour!" He shook his head in amusement. "I'm involved in practically every meeting with foreign dignitaries too, so I've got a little information that you might find helpful. I'm sure it'll reach you by the normal channels in a week or two."
"You must tell me how all of this happened," Anedjib noted, trying to ignore the gleaming golden collar that Harry was wearing. "I cannot say I am entirely surprised, of course..."
"It's quite a tale," Harry said, smirking. "The Pharaoh actually sought me out, rather than the other way around. It started with a three-headed snake and it just got weirder from there. Long story short, the Pharaoh thought I should be an advisor, and only after that did he find out about the whole magic thing. The priests of the temple of Heru practically had a fit when they found out that they'd denied me access."
"That must have been amusing," Anedjib commented. "I can only imagine what the other priests will say when they see you are here in person..."
Harry smiled. "The ones in the capital wouldn't stop apologizing for weeks, and when I finally had mercy on them and told them to forget it, I think I could hear the sigh of relief all the way from my room in the palace." He shook his head. "The Pharaoh's a busy man, so I don't see him as much as you'd think. Sometimes I end up just helping out the Queen, which is enjoyable enough, I guess. All in a Court Magician's job description."
They entered the temple, which seemed unusually tiny given what Harry had gotten used to by now. Harry recognized only three of the people present. The fourth, a rather lanky fellow, was probably a new immigrant. As Harry stepped up to the shrine he cleared his throat. "Rather a puny offering, don't you think? I hear that you still have respectable harvests, some of that wouldn't be amiss..."
"Who is your guest, High Priest Anedjib?" The new man asked. Unlike the others he had a full head of hair and he was decidedly younger.
Harry smiled at the young man, jostling his collar so it glittered in the light. "They call me Heru of Tjenu these days. Advisor to the Pharaoh."
"Wh-What?" The man stared, glancing at the other priests who looked rather sheepishly at Harry. "To the Pharaoh? Why would such a person be here?"
"I've come to visit friends and to deliver a missive regarding some recent developments in Per-Bastet." He retrieved a small papyrus scroll from his tunic and dropped it onto the shrine. "I intended to send it in the coming week, but I don't believe delivering it early will be a problem."
"Of course not," Anedjib assured him, looking on nervously. "What is it about?"
Harry smiled knowingly. "As of the coming year the temple of Bast in this town will be increased in size and scope. The Pharaoh believes that the town has a high chance of becoming economically significant in the future, and he wishes to have a stronger presence. The newly expanded temple will also provide room for a small military detachment from the capital that will keep the inhabitants of the village safe from the bandits that have been plaguing the area."
"In the coming year, you say? To make such significant changes so quickly is unheard of," one of the priests mumbled, glancing at Harry suspiciously. "To show preference for one town over another, surely that is not allowed...?"
"Everything I told the Pharaoh about Per-Bastet was the complete truth," Harry said sharply. "The fact that people are still moving here even after last year is a good sign. Several weeks ago a somewhat annoyed dignitary from Heliopolis came by to protest the number of people being 'drawn away' by the stories of this village's prosperity, particularly craftsmen. It is obvious to me that the sudden increase in inhabitants here is making other people curious, which further enhances the size of the village. Within some years this cycle will make this into a respectable town, even without the Pharaoh's help. My suggestions had nothing to do with the fact that I lived here for a time."
"If you say so," the priest mumbled. "Are there matters that we need to discuss regarding this... surprising development?"
Anedjib opened the letter, quickly reading through it. Harry had no idea what it said, but got a pretty good idea of what it contained when a huge grin spread across the old man's face. Good news for Per-Bastet, it seemed.
The afternoon passed by quickly as Harry ended up describing the temples of the capital to the priests. Only two of them had even seen the capital, and his descriptions of beautiful golden sculptures and murals across the walls were of particular interest, it seemed. The few words he shared about the Pharaoh himself just earned him awed stares, as if being in the man's proximity had somehow rubbed off on him. Anedjib looked on with mild amusement while that went on, and at last Harry excused himself and followed him out.
"Be honest, did you arrange the bigger temple, Heru?" Anedjib asked finally. "I know what people are supposed to believe, but..."
"I told the truth," Harry answered simply. "I'm going to visit Ahaneith and Nebit before I head back to the palace; lots of stuff to do. Do you have an old pot or something?" He looked around distractedly, picking up a rock. "This will do. Say-" He paused. "Come visit sometime, will you? I can give you a tour." Anedjib nodded as Harry tapped the rock and it glowed blue. "It's only a small distance, but the same principle should hold..."
Things were upside-down. Why were things upside-down?
Harry blinked blearily, and a sharp pain shot through his skull like someone had stabbed a spear into his forehead. He groaned, trying in vain to get himself upright, but his limbs wouldn't respond and his head pounded in protest. Distractedly, he tried to remember what happened: He'd been heading for Ahaneith and Nebit hadn't he? The Portkey...
"You really do manage to get into the weirdest of problems."
Harry tried to turn to the voice, but he couldn't; his eyes refused to focus. "Who... What..."
"Hold on, let me..." A sharp pain encompassed everything for a moment and Harry flailed away from it in a panic, but was stopped by someone forcing him down to the ground with a firm hand. "Keep still, you'll rip the cloth. I figured you would've realized that by now."
"Who...?"
"I'm just a friend," the voice said easily. "I really would like to give you some more care-free years, you know. You've barely tasted the potential of your new position, after all. Advisor to the Pharaoh... I've seen more impressive things, but not many. Now hold on - you should be starting to feel better any moment now."
"What happened?" Harry blurted out, managing to raise an arm to his face and wipe the sweat out of his eyes with some effort. "Where am I?"
"You smashed rather nastily into the city wall, actually. Quite an interesting thing to see, though you had me scared for a moment there. You're not indestructible you know. If you'd been hit a little harder you wouldn't be sitting here with a bruised brain. You'd be a corpse."
"Is this... Tjenu?" Had he managed to sling himself back home without even meaning to? He blinked in confusion. He hadn't even been thinking about it. Not in more than an off-hand manner, anyway. His head pulsed with pain and he decided that the thought could wait for later. It was worse enough that he'd managed to make a gaffe like this to begin with; considering the last time he hurt this much, he had to be glad he hadn't woken up in another era.
"Where else did you think they had ugly walls like these to smack into?" the voice asked, mildly amused. "I've petitioned for some proper white ones for ages, but I don't think that will happen here. Perhaps somewhere else..." The man paused. "Are your eyes okay? You've been staring at the sky for the last five minutes."
"I am not seeing much of anything," Harry muttered, suddenly panicking as something occurred to him. "Wait, did you see a stick? I must've been holding it." The man hummed affirmatively and his wand was pressed in his hand. Harry sighed in relief as he realized it was intact. "Thank you."
"I came down from Heliopolis for a little sight-seeing, hadn't quite anticipated seeing you falling from the sky. Honestly I figured you'd be getting comfortable in the palace. Maybe I should keep a closer eye on things, make sure this stuff doesn't happen again, eh?"
Harry didn't answer, tapping the back of his head with the wand. A few quick spells took the edge off the pain and he sighed in relief as the sickening feeling of weakness drained away He was fairly sure he hadn't broken anything, though he felt like he'd been run over by a Hippogriff. "Who are you...?"
"It's not important, Harry Potter. You just make your way back to the palace and enjoy the coming years. You can afford it."
"What?" Harry snapped to attention at the use of his full name and he forced his aching eyes open. Nobody. He was entirely alone, a few hundred meters from the entrance to the city. Someone had bandaged his head with some kind of patterned cloth, and judging by the pool of blood he was still sitting in, not a moment too soon.
That voice had been familiar. He'd heard it so often in his dreams, alongside monstrous cats and crumbling pyramids. It'd been Khnurn. It had to be. This left him with a conundrum. He was stuck without Portkeys again until he could figure out what had sent him smacking himself nearly to death against the city wall, and he couldn't just leave. If he was going to pursue the man, he'd need to discuss it with the Pharaoh at least. There had to be a good excuse he could use to travel the country, so that he could figure out what the man could tell him about getting home. Perhaps he'd found a lead at last.
He smiled despite his aching head and unstable feet. "Heliopolis, wasn't it?"
Author's Note: I compressed some events a bit, so that the time-skips aren't huge just yet. Next time we get Ahaneith and Nebit again as well as more Pharaoh Djer and his Queen, more Harry as the court mage in his actual function, and tracking down that elusive bastard Khnurn.